By The Fire
by Words Fly
Summary: Nate was expecting a quiet night at home, alone. Instead he was sitting by the fire, definitely not alone, and completely okay with his changed plans./Featuring: Nate Fick, Mike "Gunny" Wynn, Ray Person, and Brad Colbert


**WF:** This was written for _GenKill Holidays_ on Tumblr. It's just a short little thing for Christmas, and the T rating is for Ray's mouth.

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Nate wasn't really sure what he had expected to happen tonight, probably just another night of mindlessly watching tv before going to bed, but this was so far out of the realm of possibilities for the night that he felt like he had situational whiplash.

First, Gunny had showed up. _("Christ, Nate, just call me Mike.")_ They'd been making small talk, catching each other up on the Bravo gossip, and it'd felt good to just talk to Gu-Mike again. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed talking to the man until they were sitting on the couch close enough that their knees kept knocking together. Nate could have moved over, it might have helped lessen the heavy feeling in his stomach, but…Mike hadn't moved over either.

That had seemed normal enough. Men from Bravo dropped in on him unannounced at the weirdest times, so it was something he was accustomed to. What he hadn't been expecting was for someone to start banging on his front door not even twenty minutes after Mike had shown up. Nate had looked at Mike and raised his brows, but Mike had just laughed and said it wasn't someone he'd invited. The banging on his door didn't let up, and Nate had sighed quietly before getting to his feet. Not too quietly apparently though, because he heard Mike snort a laugh as Nate hurried towards his front door.

No one was ever really prepared for Ray Person. Not even the most elite of Recon Marines, but Nate had stared at the two people standing outside his front door without uttering a word for so long that Ray had started cackling. Actually cackling, with his head thrown back and everything. Surprisingly, the move didn't dislodge the ridiculous reindeer antlers on his head. Blinking lights even wound around the antlers. Next to Ray, who continued to laugh and point at Nate's confused face, Brad Colbert looked on with a completely blank expression. Nate had just a moment to wonder how Ray had convinced the Iceman to wear a Santa hat when Ray suddenly straightened up and then pushed past him into the house. Ray had wandered into his house with a bag in his hand, yelled out a hello to Mike, and Brad had just patted Nate's shoulder before walking inside to follow after Ray.

Now here Nate was, sitting on his couch next to Mike, and listening to Ray sing his own version of Jingle Bells while still wearing the blinking antlers. Nate mostly just felt lost, but Mike had greeted both of them like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Holy shit, homes! You've got an actual fireplace! With logs and shit! Yo, Brad, check this out!" There were already logs in the fireplace, because a real fire going in the fireplace made him think of staying with his grandparents when he was little, but Ray was pointing at it like he was discovering something brand new.

"Yes, Ray, I can see that," Brad drawled. He was sitting in Nate's recliner, where Nate usually sat, and he was sprawled out with a bored look on his face. He looked bored at first glance anyway. Nate could tell he was fighting down a smile because his cheek kept twitching.

"LT! Light this bitch up while I go make the cocoa!" Ray took off towards his kitchen with that same bag in his hand after the command, because that's what it was, and Nate looked over at Brad. For help or understanding, he wasn't sure.

"It's better to indulge him," was what Brad offered up. Nate could have argued the point, but a fire sounded nice. So he got up and set to lighting the logs already in the fireplace, and he kept an ear on the quiet conversation going on behind him.

"What's on the hat?" he heard Mike ask. Brad was still wearing the bright red Santa hat, and the hat sat crookedly on his head.

"It's a Hanukkah Santa hat. Ray threatened to glue it to my head in my sleep if I didn't wear it tonight," Brad explained. Nate remembered seeing something on the fuzzy white ball at the end, something that might have been blue, but he wasn't sure. He'd take a closer look later.

"And you believed him?" Mike's voice was warm, his tone a little teasing, and Nate glanced over his shoulder to see Mike smiling as he leaned back against the couch.

"Ray's threats are rarely idle. For a WHISKEY TANGO FUCK THAT SPENDS HIS FREE TIME CORNHOLING THE LOCAL LIVESTOCK, he's really creative when he wants to be." Brad had yelled the mild insult loud enough for Ray to hear, and Nate knew that he'd heard because he could hear loud laughter coming from the kitchen.

"So why do you put up with him?" Mike asked as Nate stood up. The fire was going pretty well, and Nate took a few steps back as the heat started to waft against his face. Before he knew it, he'd stepped back to the couch. The backs of his knees knocked against the couch and sent him falling back, and his arms flailed just a little as he fell backwards. He managed to catch himself with his hands on the couch cushions, and he looked to the side as he heard Mike laugh.

" _Fuck,"_ was his first thought when he realized that only one of his hands had landed on a couch cushion. The other was planted firmly on Mike's thigh, and he hadn't moved it yet. He quickly pulled his hand away and wiped his palm against his knee, and he quirked one side of his lips up in a small smile as he met Mike's eyes. "Sorry."

"Ho-motherfuckin'-ho!" Ray's voice caused Nate's head to snap forwards, which was probably a good thing. He didn't need to be staring at Mike like that. Ray walked back into the sitting room with two mugs hooked onto each of his hands, and he was grinning wide enough to show dimples in his cheeks. "For the superior officers."

"Not a Marine anymore, Ray," Nate reminded him even as he took the mug handed to him. Mike accepted his own mug with a quiet thanks, and Ray winked at them before walking over to Brad. He passed one mug to Brad, kept the last mug in his hand, and then looked around. Brad was sitting in the only chair, and Nate and Mike were on the couch. They were both sitting in the middle of the couch, with plenty of space on either side of them, but Ray opted for a different seat.

"To answer your question, Gunny—"

"—not a Marine anymore, Brad—"

"—I put up with him because he has his uses," Brad finished. Ray was sitting on the floor at Brad's feet, and he tipped his head back so that the back of his head pressed against Brad's knee.

"I'm awesome and you know it. Now drink your cocoa and tell me I'm better than Martha Stuart could ever fucking hope to be," Ray said as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

Nate looked down at the mug in his hand, and he had to admit that it looked better than he thought something Ray had produced would look. The cocoa was topped with whipped cream, a lot of whipped cream, and there was a candy cane sticking out of the mug. Nate raised it to his lips, a little cautiously, and took a tentative sip. The cocoa was the perfect temperature, light on his tongue, and he'd never tell Ray but it was some damned good cocoa. He could hear Brad and Ray bickering over the amount of whipped cream, and Nate looked to his side. Just a small glance. Mike was drinking his own cocoa, and Nate's eyes got caught on the way his throat worked as he swallowed.

"Thank you, Ray," Nate finally said. His cocoa was half gone by that point, and the room was pleasantly warm. Everything felt cozy, and he'd relaxed back against the couch as he drank.

"Told you Martha Stuart ain't got shit on me." Ray was licking the whipped cream off of his chin, and Brad was looking down at him with a mixture of disgust and fondness. It was a strange look to see on the Iceman, but it seemed like it was a look only reserved for Ray.

"Nate, you got a little somethin'." Mike rubbed a finger against the corner of his lips, and Nate immediately reached up to wipe at his mouth. Maybe Brad had been right about there being too much whipped cream. Mike shook his head when Nate raised a brow in question, and Nate used the edge of his sleeve to wipe along his top lip. "Here, just let me…"

"You take that back right the fuck now, Bradley!" Nate didn't know what Ray was yelling at Brad about, because the only thing he could focus on was Mike's thumb gently swiping across the corner of his lips. The touch was light and pulled down his bottom lip the smallest bit, and Nate watched as Mike's pupils expanded as his thumb pressed against his bottom lip.

"Thanks." The single word caused his lips to brush against Mike's thumb, and Mike smiled a little before pulling away. If he was feeling just as flustered as Nate suddenly was, he didn't show it. Flustered…Nate hadn't felt like this since his first date. He thought he was past feeling like this.

"I think I'm gonna get me a house with a fireplace. I like this whole vibe. Sweet cocoa, crackling fire, sexy Santa." Even though his head was tipped back onto Brad's knee again, Nate could see the way that Ray waggled his eyebrows. Brad rolled his eyes, but he did reach down to place one hand on top of Ray's head.

Conversation picked up from there, about what they'd all been up to and what their plans were for Christmas in a week's time, and Nate loosened up in the relaxed atmosphere. Ray kept his head rested against Brad's knee, and Brad kept one hand on top of Ray's head between the blinking antlers. Mike and Nate were both leaned back against the couch, with their legs spread just enough that their knees stayed pressed tight together, and Nate kept talking about his sister's wedding plans as Mike moved an arm on top of the couch. His arm wasn't around Nate's shoulders or anything like that, but Nate could feel the heat of him along the back of his neck. When Ray started talking about dreading having two of his feuding cousins under one roof for Christmas dinner, Nate let himself lean to the side just a little. Mike's side was a line of heat down Nate's arm, and Mike's foot nudged against his in response.

The night wasn't anything like what Nate had expected when he got home that day, and he didn't know what the next day would bring. All he knew was that he could get addicted to the scent of Mike's aftershave, Brad and Ray were surprisingly domestic together, and the logs popping in the fire were the perfect soundtrack to the most unexpected night of his life.

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 **Finis:** This was my first time writing in the _Generation Kill_ fandom, but I think I'll be writing in it again soon. I guess we'll see, huh? **HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**


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